


Fist fights, Demo-dogs, and... what the f*ck

by SupernaturalWinter



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Not Human, Overprotective, Pre-Slash, Protective Siblings, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, adding tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 17:51:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13686750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupernaturalWinter/pseuds/SupernaturalWinter
Summary: So that fight went mostly to canon. But what happened after...didn't.The kids left Steve behind.Consciousness filtered through as if on a butterfly's wings...





	Fist fights, Demo-dogs, and... what the f*ck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter updated Feb, 24/'18

Chapter 1

Then.

Consciousness filtered through as if on a butterfly's wings. 

He remembered lashing out, fists flying towards Harrington’s face, blood spraying. Then just a pinprick and pressure in his neck. Everything felt fuzzy, and the next fist that flew didn’t result in the same pain dancing across his knuckles. 

Must’a not hurt as much. Good. 

Bits of conversation, words not tied down with string reached his ears. None of it made sense, and none of it would stay in his memory.

Then, nothing but darkness.

 

Now.

 

Fire rang in his ears while pain lanced through his jaw. Ribs throbbed with each breath and thud of his heart. Some of the injuries were aching left over from his father, and others were new from the fight with the bo-Harrington. He’d give the kid credit, he’s fucking sore.

He hadn’t opened his eyes yet but the heat and rhythmic sounds off to his right told him that there was something alive there. Based on what he remembered, he’d put his keys on it being either Harrington or one of the little shits.

Max. 

Billy’s eyes snapped open and it took a second to focus, so he stared at what looked like a drawing -there were variations of it covering, well, everything in the house, “Harrington, what the Fuck. What the Fuck are you doing here.” Valid question, his mind supplied but not exactly what he originally intended to ask, “Hey, Harrington you alive?” There, that was relevant.

No response. Billy turned his head to look at him. Was this kid playing possum? “Harrington. Harrington, hey King Steve!” Still no response, “Harrington!” Yelling hurt, Fuck his dad did a number on his ribs.

A groan and cough was all he got for his effort. 

Feeling marginally better then he did when he first woke up, Billy pulled himself up and crawled over to make sure that Harrington wasn’t going to die anytime soon, he needed answers. 

Harrington’s face was a mess of blood and tear tracks. Billy had gone through his fair share of fights and have been at the tail end of an unimaginable number of beatings, but somehow seeing the other boy just laying there looking for all intents and purposes dead- bile rose up at the sight. 

He just came to this fucking house to get his step-sister. Why did Harrington have to get in fucking way.

_He wasn’t waking up he should be waking up by now._

Making sure he didn’t hit his head to hard at any point, Billy ran his fingers through Harrington’s hair and along his scalp to check for any bumps, depressions, or blood. Having learned from his own injuries, finding something like that can be serious. Finding nothing on the back of his skull, Billy turned his attention to his face. His nose was likely broken, his jaw was swollen to hell and when he prodded the other boy’s cheekbone, the skin moved under his touch with a grating sound that could only mean a fracture. Harrington’s right eye was swelling and colours of purple and reds were beginning to blossom.

When Billy finished checking for a head injury he took a moment to appreciate that he didn’t seem to have given the other boy any actual skull injury. Filled with relief, he rested his fingers in Harrington’s hair. At some point during his assessment, Harrington woke up because when Billy looked at his face again, he was just staring at him, “wha- what are you doing- stop that.”

Billy pulled his hands away and sat back on his heels. He didn’t get a chance to check over his chest and figure out why he was hearing wheezing and he knew at this point he wasn’t going to. Once more Billy scanned over Harrington’s bruised and bloodied face, “I- shit, I. This wasn’t supposed to happen.” He was just supposed to get his sister and go home.

Harrington didn’t seem like he’d have the energy for it, yet, the anger in his voice stated otherwise, “to not answer your question, what do you mean what am I doing here. What are you doing here? And what’s your fucking problem with Lucas” confusion flashed across his face, “and is that blood?”

“You heard that? Were you awake the entire time?! What the Fuck Harrington!” Billy was on familiar ground now. Despite the lack of coordinated conversation, anger he can deal with, he was used to it, yet again the conversation turned, “well ya that’s definitely your blood.”

Guilt rose up. 

He couldn’t help tease, hope to break the tension building in the air, “why, ya squeamish, princess? And to answer your other question,” Billy looked up, for some reason or another he half expected his step-sister to be in the other room and walk in at the sound of conversation, “looking for Ma- where the hell is Max?! Harrington where the Fuck is my sister!”

Billy saw Harrington look around and tense, likely having realized they were utterly alone. The kids had left. Panic flashed across his face, “no no nonono. This— no they couldn’t have just.” Harrington tried to get up, but only managed to get to his elbows before collapsing. He tried to get up again, until out of nowhere he stopped struggling and calm washed over his expression, “wait, wait they couldn’t have gotten far.”

Billy watched the panic flash across Harrington’s face, not understanding the amount of desperation pouring out of the other boy, “Yeah no shit they couldn’t have gotten far, they don’t have a car”. Just as the words exited his mouth a feeling of dread washed through the air. 

Billy shoved both his hands in his pockets knowing he wasn’t going to find them. “They’re gone. My keys are gone.” 

Any blood left in Harrington’s face drained right out of it, “what do you mean your keys are gone.”

“She took them! The little shit took my keys!” Panic laced his words and gripped his heart. Billy threaded his fingers through his hair and pulled, “shit shit shit.” He didn’t know where the little shit had gone. He knew there was nothing he could do at this point, but he knew going home empty handed or to find out she was already home— he was a dead man, his father’d kill him.

Through the haze of panic, he heard someone trying to get his attention. For a brief moment he had completely forgotten about Harrington “Hey, hey! Snap out of it. You don’t get to come in here beat the shit out of a kid, beat the shit out of _me_. Then _have a freak out_ of your own. No. Not cool man. Now help me up.”

Billy looked across at the other boy and saw his determination so he reached out, grasped his arm and pulled him to a seated position, “Why are you so freaked out man.”

Billy looked at him and saw, for reasons unknown to him, honest concern. Billy then thought maybe if Harrington knows the truth- maybe he’ll help. Slowly wrapping his head around the new situation, Billy was about to start explaining when an unearthly sound reached his ears, “the fuck was that?” 

He readied his himself to get up to see where- _what_ the sound came from, but Harrington shot his arm out and put his hand over Billy’s mouth. Momentarily frozen because _what the fuck_ he didn’t react; Harrington didn’t make a sound but motioned to keep quiet. 

Billy, having had fine tuned his survival skills over the past few years noticed the change in demeanour in the other boy immediately and nodded. Whatever it was, Harrington was terrified.

Billy couldn’t think of what it could be. Having come from California, he wasn’t sure what they had in this hellhole of a town but animals he is familiar with are a lot more, well, natural sounding. 

Billy motioned to the window and got up in a crouch. Before he could start moving, another hand shot out and gripped Billy’s wrist with strength the other boy didn’t look like he had, “don’t.”

Billy wasn’t sure what he should make of anything at the moment. He was sore, frustrated, and confused with the situation. He looked at Harrington again, his pupils were blown wide, his face was pale, and the death grip on his wrist was not letting up. Just as Billy was about to say something to ease the other boy’s unmistakeable terror, _something_ crashed in through the living room. 

A grotesque figure stood before the two boys. Leading this figure was a flower petal head that opened to display rows upon rows of teeth and was seemingly responsible for the sound like Death that vibrated through the air.

Billy took one look at Harringt-Steve and knew this would probably be the last time either of them would be alone together, “shit man I’m so sorry, for everything.”

Just as Steve seemed to be about to reply, the _thing_ crouched low to ready itself for it’s kill. 

The air hummed a sound that shouldn’t be possible in this time. 

All energy, all focus was held captive in that moment. 

Both boys held their breath.

Then just as the thing looked ready to spring forward, the air crackled with electricity, and before it could move Billy ran forward with a growl of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-readers are welcome please contact me if you're interested! (Or if you notice any grammar or sentence structure errors please let me know) 
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> ->keep updated with my progress at supernaturalwinter.tumblr.com


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